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"...My road of good intentions led where such roads always lead..."

-Elphaba Thropp, Wicked: The Untold Story of the Wicked Witch of the West

January 16, 2012

I wonder why Logan leaves. He does it often and I decided to record it here so I could remember to ask him about it. Maybe he has another person to look after. I don't like to think that, that is true; but it is a possibility.

We've kissed after the first time it happened, but it's him who kisses me...so what does that make us? The term of 'boyfriend' doesn't seem to fit in our situation so it cannot be that. What else would our 'relationship' be though? That is what I've been thinking about...Logan hasn't gotten the slightest idea either, I am sure of this. I believe he's happier though. Before, I could tell that something was weighing his; spirit if you will- down. Logan was much more guarded. Even more so than myself. You can always tell when someone has something to hide; no matter who you are.

Besides that, I have no more to write. I haven't recalled much of anything from my past. But, I hope I will so that I can have something else to build off of from the prostitute past.

I didn't read Kendall's entries all the time. He'd let me, of course, but a notebook or journal is personal. That makes it private, just the way it should be. I lean over the kitchen counter watching him write from the couch. Kendall must've noticed because he looked over at me, offering a small smile. He closes the notebook and sets it down on the coffee table.

"Hey," Kendall says in his hushed way. "Do you have to go anywhere?"

Honestly, I didn't. However, I needed to track down Hawk. And I'm sure that when Lucy finds out I'm not really doing anything about her request, she'll go ballistic.

"No, I'll stay here," I told him. "But I do, although, have plans for another day."

"And what would those be?"

I walk around the counter and to the couch. "Another time," I sigh, sitting next to him. There are some things about me Kendall is obviously better off never finding out. He shrugs and nods as if to say it didn't matter. I know it does though. We've seemed to switch as in, now it is him who has to be concerned over whether I trust him or not.

Neither of us says anything, silently appreciating each other's company. Now that I've become so used to Kendall living with me, I never realized how lonely I was before. Finally Kendall inquires, "What's it like outside? I uh; sorry if I already asked that before."

That happened often. Kendall would repeat questions even if he wrote the answers down. I would never tell him he repeated anything. "Since we live in the city the air isn't as clear as it is in the country," I explain. "I suppose you could picture any city because I don't think Detroit is much different. One real stand-out difference"- well, for me anyways- "Is the alleyways are full of twists and turns, you won't ever know where you'll end up."

"How about at night?"

I close my eyes and lean back. There wasn't much I paid attention to at night. At least, the only time I went out at night I was too occupied with... "You can't see the stars," I mumble. "The buildings block out space in the sky and the street lights...everything would make it too difficult anyways."

I feel Kendall shift beside me. "Where could we see the stars?"

"There are a lot of places, and I'm sure if you went to the rooftop of one of the skyscrapers you'd see them; but...I've never left Detroit so why should I be so sure?" When I open my eyes again I see Kendall examining me thoughtfully.

"So...you'll never leave?" Kendall questioned, "aren't you worried you'll never get anywhere in life if you stay in one place?"

A little too late. If I leave Detroit I'll have nothing to go to. But I don't tell him that because it will spark questions I don't want to answer. "It depends. I've my life ahead of me," I say.

"Do you think I could have a future?" Asks Kendall.

I smile at him and assure, "I'm sure you will." Kendall will be fine; he doesn't have a criminal record. I'd find a way to make a life for him some day. Kendall's eyes seem to flicker to a shade of spring green. He leans forward but pauses about a centimeter or two from my lips. "What?" I say softly.

"You usually...you usually make the first move," Kendall admits, cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

"Then...go ahead," I press, eyes closing again, I wait. Though I can't see him, I can feel the hesitation by the way Kendall tenses. I move my hands to his waist and he leans forward. It made sense for him to be nervous, but he honestly had nothing to be concerned over. Our kisses thus far never consisted of teeth and tongue; we weren't there yet, but I think I prefer it that way.

How do you know when you 'love' someone? I can't love Kendall yet, we've only been together for a week and we aren't necessarily considering ourselves partners yet. I've heard stories of love at first sight and of that undying feeling towards someone...a someone who you'd do anything for.

Certainly there was this affect of a protective gravitational pull to keep Kendall safe, but would I really do anything for him?

Now, if I had something to resent of Kendall-this was it. I hated the way it was him to blame over how I would second guess myself now; how I would question the smallest of actions, like if I would leave the door of my bedroom open or close. Would closing it give Kendall the sense I was blocking him out? Would keeping it open give him permission to be closer than I intended us to be? Agh! I swear this is worse than my sentence in The Secret Annexe 2.0

Sometime during the week I had intended to call Jo and ask her bring more food, but somehow I ended up revealing that Kendall and I had kissed and she went on and on about how wonderful this was for me. Somewhere amongst the never-ending rants of congratulations, Jo managed to calm herself enough to warn me of how love would make you crazy in your own ways depending on who you were personally.

Was I going crazy?

In my book, indeed I was.

"Are you okay?" Kendall asks in concern.

I open my eyes again. I didn't even realize the kiss stopped. Did I stop kissing back? Or did Kendall sense my mind was elsewhere and retract? "Yeah, I'm fine," I assure.

Kendall blinks skeptical eyes at me but doesn't debate it. I almost let a sigh of relief escape.

Logan's told me of the outside in Detroit. If I haven't confided it yet, that is where we are. Detroit, Michigan. Logan said that the air wasn't as clear as the country due to the fact we lived in the city. He explained that stars were hard to find, but for me; stars are a vague memory, so I don't know if it should matter for or not…they engross me though. Logan's never left Detroit but someday, I'd like to think we'll go together somewhere with open skies. He did say he had his whole life ahead of him. I wonder; would he ever include me in that near or distant future?

Oh! I almost forgot- Logan mentioned the alleyways were strange. Maybe he didn't use the word 'strange' but I think they sound it. They're full of twists and turns, he said. I changed the subject quickly there, something about it made me uneasy, but I was sure to hide that well enough that Logan wouldn't even see a glimmer of it.

But, I think it might be a bit selfish to fret with myself; it's all too obvious Logan has something going on himself. Like me, it's a mental struggle. Although, maybe Logan can control what ever is going on with him. While we were kissing after the talk of the outside, he seemed to stop. Not because he wasn't appreciating it, but he felt distant. Though his eyes were closed, I could recognize his thoughts were drowning him. I do a lot of thinking, so that's how I knew. I'd like to help him like he's helping me, I guess.

I don't know how long I lay awake in my bed until I realized there was no freaking way I was getting any sleep. So I shoved back the covers and grabbed my gray hoodie from the end of the bed, slipping it on. I silently cursed Jo for taking away my 'collection' of knives. She felt it would 'kill' the temptation. Did she not know how talented I was with my ability to murder with bare hands; I'm surprised actually that Jo hadn't yet mentioned to me about what happened to that woman Kelly Wainwright. Perhaps she was yet to catch it on the news.

I didn't let it occupy my mind for too long, for where I was going I needed to keep everything icy-cold inside of me and let the scheme consume any fragment of a conscience that was left. For a brief moment the thought of Kendall awakening in alarm battled for dominance but eventually the more brutal of the thoughts ruled. Actually, thinking of Kendall only fueled the other deliberation.

By the time I had walked a good distance down the street and away from the hideout, I began to wonder where I would find him…

Hawk.

He was a criminal, sure but I doubt he'll be in the same bar Jeremy was. Would I have to search in a real bar? The risk if I had too; was it seriously worth it?

Then a remember when I found Kendall in the alleyway. It seemed like an impossible dream that he'd be doing so well so soon. I think I may even be considering thanking Jeremy for indirectly telling me who left Kendall in the alley. Obviously I'd come up with a different reason.

That didn't matter now. Since I had no way to locate Hawk, or to even be sure he was out tonight; I would pop into any bar I found, scour briefly, then leave and find another to search. The first saloon I located was called: Vinum Taberna. In Latin- because Jo insisted I make myself useful during hiding and learn something- meant, 'Wine Inn'. Now, how would I approach this? Option one was to burst in and be noticed completely. Option two was to carefully and quietly sneak about until I found my victim.

Option one would be quicker.

Option two could take up to an hour.

Huh. Okay.

When I reach Vinum Taberna I burst through the door and shove past anyone who would dare to stop me. I speed blindly to the bar and rip a beer glass from a man whose appearance I don't bother to take note of. Then I shoulder my way to a stage located at the far back wall. Currently all that stands there are three microphone stands, a drum set, and a guitar without owners. I pull myself up onto the stage and slam the glass bottle down onto the wood. The adults all let out a chorus of startled shouts and gasps. They glare up at me. I say nothing. All I do is examine the crowd for the egotistical scowl of the man who calls himself Hawk.

"Hey, isn't that Logan Mitchell!" One of the men bellows. Damn...Even if I wanted to back down and run, they've begun to catch on.

"I thought he was sent to some foreign prison!" Another exclaims.

"No! So the rumors are true; it's him who killed that lady!" A third added.

"Ha! He's not as frightening as everyone says!" The first man sneers. I bristle at that comment and my gaze flickers down to the shards of glass. He says, "I wonder what kind a reward we'd be given for turning the big bad Logan Mitchell in?"

The guy next to him reaches over and pats his back. He chuckles cruelly, "Ah, c'mon. Doesn't Nathan Knight have enough money?"

That caught my interest. Suddenly my heart beats faster. They notice my sudden curiosity. The man on the other side of 'Nathan Knight' hisses, "Nathan's work has brought him to wealth a juvenile delinquent like you will never have!"

I clench my jaw and ask as threateningly as possible, "What kind of 'work' is this?"

Nathan Knight exchanged glances with his cohorts before moving through the crowd until he stood at the stage, looking up at me.

Something about his eyes...

"Now, I don't usually go telling amateurs like you my secrets," Nathan says in a mockingly calm ton. Amateur, he called me an amateur! Once more, I glimpse at the broken bottle. Nathan continues, "But, since we're gonna turn you in anyways..." A wicked smile stretches across his face. "Maybe before I had financial problems but I took care of that real quick, the wife didn't like it and split; but that doesn't matter when I have more money than my own good...Alright; I'll cut to chase." He raises his hands up as if sacrificing himself to a cop. "I sell my son, Kendall."

Everything inside me is frozen; my heart turned completely to stone. If there was any self control left, it is no more. In a swift movement; I reach down, grab a shard of glass and lunge at Nathan. He falls backward and before he can push me away, I slice his neck. Oh, but I wasn't finished there. I continue to assault him by cutting into his face, arms, and chest; enjoying the screams emitting from his throat. His blood splatters my hands, staining my fingertips in scarlet.

I must have ice in my soul...but, I always have so why does it bother me now? The doubt is immediately shoved to the back of my mind and with a smile that must be a hundred times more unpleasant than that of the Grinch; I lean down and whisper into his ear, "Call me amateur again." Nathan's eyes widen to an impossible size and they stare off somewhere unreachable. He opens his mouth to speak but all that spurts up from his throat are bright red drops. "Exactly what I thought," I growl.

And when he fades away into heaven, Hell-I could care less-I get up and back away from him. The glass is still gripped in my fingers. Now this was far greater than locating Hawk. Glancing around; I view the once criticizing faces of the grown men, now looking on in alarm. I smirk, pleased over the fact that I now had the upper hand. Someone would call the police. Would I dare stay around and wait for them to do so?

If Kendall wasn't in the picture I believe I would.

"You killed him!" the man who had been standing Nathan coughs out.

I casually toss the blood-stained piece of glass from hand to hand. "No, I was reenacting the Hunger Games." I slip the glass into my jeans pocket. "Now that, that is done; I've better things to do than hang around here." A path seemed to part for me as I headed for the exit. This, on top of Kelly Wainwright, Jo is sure to figure it out eventually; and when she does, well I guess that means I'm in a shit load of trouble. Right now, I could care less.

What luck I had been brought by on the first tavern finding the one who put Kendall in that pain to begin with. Perhaps, no matter what sins condemn me, God or whoever is up there; was by my side on this one.

Once I read in a book, Everlost- again, Jo's idea entirely- that 'a brave man's life is worth a thousand cowardly souls'. Perhaps, Kendall is the brave one and all those who tormented him, the cowardly. It was infuriating to think that it was a possibility Kendall was abused by a thousand. But maybe I could make it a mission to track them all down.

I should be asleep right now, but so much is on my mind still. There are still questions, still ideas conjuring over how I can help Logan in return.

The questions are selfish, so bare with me.

Question 1: What does music sound like? Logan sings to me, but what does it sound like with an orchestra of instruments tuned in with it?

Question 2: The outdoors-again- do they really vary from city and country?

Question 3: Can Logan take me out? It's something I want if it is not an attainable desire?

And the other questions; well they seem to be gone like most of my thoughts.

As for Logan, he's harder to crack than me. Yes, we trust each other; but is it truly trust when we keep things from each other? I've nothing to keep that I can remember, but there is something strange about Logan. I won't interrogate him; that is the worst possible thing to do. The best way to approach this is to remain close, wait until the moment is right...

The first thing I see when I open the door is Kendall sitting up on the couch writing something in his notebook. His gaze is startled, but he seems tranquil enough.

"Hey, Kendall," I say in a placating voice. "I jut went out for a quick stroll, I hope you weren't afraid."

Kendall shut the book. Instead of putting it on the coffee table, he hid it under the pillow of the couch. "I'm alright. I believe I hadn't noticed you gone."

"Good," I sigh, walking over to him. "Do you think you can fall back asleep?"
Kendall shrugs. "It's always hard to determine that, you know."

"Mmm..." I murmur, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Okay, uh; can I help? Do you want a drink of water? Midnight snack?"

Kendall shakes his head and whispers, "It would be nice if you could sing for me again; a refresher I guess. I wish I could remember your singing, but it's so hard to, and one's voice is complicated to describe for a person who has a very limited memory span."

"Yeah, I understand," I respond. Again, I search for a song that would be worthy of a lullaby. When the song is selected from the short album stored in mind, I begin, "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? You've been out riding fences for so long now... Oh, you're a hard one, but I know you've got your reasons; these things that are pleasing you, can hurt you somehow...Don't you draw the queens of diamonds, boy, she'll beat you if she's able; you know the queen of hearts was always your best bet...Now it seems to me some fine things, have been laid upon your table, but you only want the one's that you can't get..."

There was something about this song that struck close to home with me. It was as if the Eagles had been thinking of someone like me when they were writing it. But, I kept the wildfire of emotions extinguished, because it wasn't about me. I continue with a slightly cracking voice, "Desperado, oh you ain't getting no younger; your pain and your hunger, they're driving you home...and freedom, oh freedom, that's just some people talking; your prison is walking through this world all alone..."

Kendall stares up at me tiredly, but he smiles empathetically as if knowing what is going on in my head.

There is a peculiar sensation pushing at the back of my eyes. I think its tears. "...Don't your feet get cold in the winter time? The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine; Its hard to tell the nighttime from the day...you're losing all your highs and lows, ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?...Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? Come down from your fence...it may be raining, but there's a rainbow above you; you better let somebody love you, you better let somebody love you, how you better let somebody love you...before it's too late..."

Instead of asleep, Kendall is struggling to keep awake. I sigh, "Kendall, sleep."

He says, sounding heavily sedated, "Can you record...can you...record the...the, uh..."

"I'll write the song in your notebook, sure," I cut him off, trying not to grin at how Kendall was speaking in his drunken articulation.

"Thanks," Kendall mumbles, allowing himself to be overcome by sleep. I lean forward, and kiss his forehead before reaching for the notebook and pen. It takes much more willpower than I would think to not read the other writing of the day. Not only that, but I also reluctantly pushed back the desire to pour out my own emotions. The knowledge that I murdered Kendall's father weighed heavy in both positive and negative approaches.

This is Logan, writing briefly for Kendall (you!) who is asleep and wished that I tell of my singing. Its something I do for you to help you sleep. On the very first night I brought you to my home I sang you and it worked well enough.

The song I sang to you tonight is called "Desperado" by the Eagles. It reminded me more of myself though.

Nevermind; I'll write the lyrics and leave you to sleep...

When I finished my entry; I set the notebook back down. Then, before I went to my room, I kiss his lips lightly so he doesn't awaken. A part of me wants to stay with him, while the other part is vaguely annoyed because I'm not sleeping. So the moment I reach my bed, I'm out...